


Changing Weather (For Worse or For Better)

by haztobegood



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 5 Times, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28725234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haztobegood/pseuds/haztobegood
Summary: Five times it's raining and one time it stops.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 70
Collections: 5 Times 1D Fic Fest





	Changing Weather (For Worse or For Better)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the [ 1D Five Times Fest](https://1d5xfest.tumblr.com/). Thank you to the mods for putting this fest together! You can read all the great 5X fics [ here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/5Times_1D_Fic_Fest) and remember to leave kudos and comments for all the amazing authors!
> 
> Also thank you so much to [SashinaLash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SashinaLash/pseuds/SashinaLash/works), my amazing beta for this fic. She has some incredible fics you can read too!
> 
> The title are lyrics from Right Way Round by Saint Raymond. The song doesn't really match the fic, but those particular lyrics fit well.

# 🌧

“It’s raining,” Harry observes. He just came into the room, his laptop in his hand. Louis looks up from the worn pages of his book. 

“Mhm,” Louis hums in acknowledgement. He turns his book over laying on his lap to hold his page. He glances out the window, where the outside world is washed grey, the brilliant yellows and oranges of autumn muted by the misty rain. Rivulets slither down the foggy panes of glass. 

It’s a rare, peaceful Saturday, with nothing to do and nowhere to be. Louis is stretched on the couch with a book he’s been meaning to read. As Harry patters about the living room, Louis reaches for his mug of tea on the coffee table. He downs the last sip, gone lukewarm as he sat reading. He sets down the empty mug on the coaster. 

A shiver wracks his body and he tucks his legs up onto the couch cushion, curling into a ball to ward off the chill. It’s not as cold as it will be a month from now, but after sweating through the summer, the first dip into autumn temperatures is always a shock to his system. 

So, he’s thankful when the lid of the old cedar chest creaks open. Louis would recognize the sound anywhere. Even back when the chest was a fixture in his grandparents’ house, the hinges loudly protested their movement. Harry holds the lid open with one hand and extracts a green and blue blanket from mass of soft crocheted afghans and faded patchwork quilts. Harry lowers the lid with a screech and tosses the blanket onto the couch next to Louis.

“You want me to start a fire?” Harry asks. 

Louis looks at where a few meager logs are piled near the brick fireplace. They will need to restock their supply before the winter cold really sets in. Louis loves the wood burning fireplace, but only in the winter. The heat of burning logs would make the room unbearably toasty on a mild day like today. No, he’ll save the fires for later in the winter, when he can’t quite chase the chill from his bones. He shakes his head. “Not ready to give into the weather yet. Just need a cuddle, then I’ll be fine.” Louis makes room on the couch for Harry and reaches a hand out to invite him. 

“Alright.” Harry sets his laptop on the coffee table and plops down, his thigh pressed against Louis’. They spread out the large blanket across their laps. He tucks his bare feet against Harry’s legs. Harry doesn’t even jump, too familiar with his icicle toes to care. 

Harry reaches for his laptop. Louis gazes out the window again. The rain has picked up, golden leaved trees tossing in the breeze. Droplets patter against the windows, the soft noise fills the living room. 

Harry raises his arm and Louis tucks himself into his side, slotting together in one of his favorite spots. He rests his head on Harry’s chest. Warm lips press a soft kiss to his forehead, against the skin where his fringe has parted. This close, Harry smells of his shampoo, familiar and comforting. Louis breathes in and relaxes fully into his side. Within minutes, the chill has seeped from his limbs. Louis sighs contentedly. He picks up his book and finds the line where he left off.

# 🌧

“It’s raining,” Louis grumbles. He glares out the bedroom window at the wet, gloomy morning. He tugs the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands. The temperature dropped over night, just on the edge of frozen. The drizzle threatens to turn over to sleet at any moment. Water drips slowly from the eaves, forming tiny icicles along the roof. The roads are probably slick and dangerous. 

The dim grey sky matches the bare trees and dead grass in their garden. Wind howls against the house, stirring up the last of the fallen leaves in a swirl. Under the big oak tree, the bird feeder swings back and forth in the wind. Even the song birds, usually flitting around the feeder for their morning breakfast, are avoiding the icy rain. Louis doesn’t blame them. 

He can’t imagine venturing out into this wet weather willingly. He will be miserable and cold the rest of the day if he has to set foot outside. He glances at the unmade bed, the blankets still tossed back, warm and inviting. He should have just stayed in bed this morning. 

“Come on, Lou.” Harry pops into the bedroom. “I want to get to the shops before it gets busy.” He’s wearing a huge patchwork cardigan and Louis wonders if it’s big enough to fit both of them. 

Louis groans. He and Harry had agreed to spend Saturday together, to finish the last of their Christmas shopping. The holiday is fast approaching and they need all the time to prepare before their families descend on their house for the celebrations. “But it’s gross outside,” Louis pouts. “Can’t we just order the gifts online and stay home?” 

“You know it’s too late in the season for that,” Harry says. “Plus, it always feels better to hand out presents when they’re hand-picked.” He grabs his purse and the car keys from the tray on the dresser. Louis frowns and glares out the window again, as if the heat from his stare could melt all the ice. Harry tries to bribe him to hurry along, saying in a sing-songy voice, “If you hurry we can stop at Starbucks on our way!” 

“Fine.” Louis gives in too easily.

“We’ll be back before you know it.” Harry pecks him on the cheek as he slides past him and out the bedroom door. “Let’s go!” he shouts, cheery as an elf. Louis wishes he could get as excited about holiday shopping. But, it’s hard to be excited when he has to fight crowds and the wintry weather. He’s never been one for the cold. He much prefers the warmer summer months when he doesn’t have to bundle up to leave the house. 

It takes a moment to put on all their winter layers. Harry pulls on his coat, hat, and gloves. Once he’s wrapped a thick scarf around his face, there’s barely any of Harry visible except his green eyes. Louis grabs his own puffy coat and tugs a hat low over his ears. Louis can’t remember where he left his gloves, but Harry is already halfway out the door. 

Louis shoves his hands into his pockets and trudges out the door after Harry.

# 🌧

“It’s raining.” Harry pouts. Louis rubs soothing circles into Harry’s back as they stare out the kitchen window at the clouds blanketing the sky. The rain showers would wash away the last remnants of winter and encourage new sprouts and budding leaves. But while the rain was giving life to the plants around them, it effectively killed their afternoon plans for a date in the park.

“I’m sorry,” Louis consoles. 

“I had it all planned. I packed a picnic basket and everything.” Harry slouches. He reaches into the basket, unpacking the containers of uneaten food. 

Louis would part the clouds and bring the sun back to make Harry’s dimple appear again. Since he can’t control the weather, he has to improvise. Louis will turn their perfect romantic outdoor picnic into one of the best days indoors that Harry can remember. Louis grabs his wrist, halting his unpacking. “I have an idea. Let’s bring the picnic basket into the living room. We can spread out some blankets and have our own private picnic. Can you get the living room ready? I’m going to go grab something.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Harry grumbles. He hoists the picnic basket into the crook of his arm and shuffles off to the living room. Louis runs downstairs to the family room. He doesn’t want to leave Harry alone for long when he’s so clearly upset by their cancelled plans. But he knows just the thing to bring back Harry’s smile: a game of Scrabble. It’s one of Harry’s favourites, but they haven’t played in so long. 

He finds the old red box on the top of the stack of board games and the rushes back into the living room. All of their pillows and blankets are sprawled out on the floor with picnic basket open in the centre. Harry still looks grumpy when he turns around, but he lights up at the sight of the tattered Scrabble box. No amount of clouds or rain could diminish the brightness of seeing Harry’s dimple appear on his cheek.

They settle in, spreading out an entire feast to enjoy. While Harry pulls a wine bottle from the basket and pours two glasses, Louis reaches for his phone for some music. He chooses one of Harry’s soft, poppy playlists and plays it over the speakers, filling the room with a light melody. 

After the meal and the whole bottle of wine, Harry and Louis have all but forgotten about their washed-out picnic plans. Louis spreads out the Scrabble tiles and Harry marks the scorecard with their names while rain still falls around their house. The pile of pillows and blankets makes the perfect alternative to the grassy park. It wasn’t the picnic, but the time spent together Harry had been after anyway. 

They haven’t played in years, but time has not taken away Harry’s competitive streak. Harry’s up by 50 and smug about it. Louis’ not ready to go down without a fight. He needs a Q and he will resort to cheating if he has to. 

Seeing his chance, he swipes an extra tile. But Harry catches on, grabbing his wrist and holding it against his chest. “You’re not trying to cheat are you, Lou?”

“No,” Louis says, feigning innocence and batting his eyelashes.

“You liar!” Harry accuses, ready to defend his lead. To distract Harry, Louis leans in and steals a kiss. Losing isn’t so bad if kisses are the consolation prize. But he’d still rather win so he sneaks the extra tile while Harry kisses him back.

# 🌧

“It’s raining,” Louis complains. He slows his pace to glance up at the sky. The heavy clouds overhead threaten to open up. Louis swipes the sweat from his brow and pushes his fringe back off his face. The only thing worse than a morning run is a humid morning run. His lungs protest the wet air. 

“It is not. Keep going.” Harry huffs over his shoulder, never missing a stride. If Louis wasn’t trying to keep up, he’d appreciate Harry’s back side as he runs down the pavement. 

“I felt a rain drop.” 

“The weather app said we had two hours.” 

“The app is wrong. It’s raining. It’s gonna drench us.” Louis feels another drop land on his cheek, as if mother nature is taunting him.

“All the more reason to keep running. If we slow our pace now we won’t make it back before it starts.”

Louis wants to argue but it won’t make a difference. Harry’s right; they are two-thirds of the way through Harry’s normal route, just under two miles from home. Louis regrets getting out of their bed for this. How had Harry convinced him to join his morning run, anyway?

Oh right, he was promised a shower blow job. Of course. 

Louis presses on, keeping pace with Harry. They run in silence, approaching the final corner to their street. They are so close to home now. But there is one last hill. A steep hill. Louis hates this hill.

He wants to groan, but it won’t make the hill any easier to climb. Every muscle in Louis’ legs burns as he pushes through to make it to the top. Louis focuses on the ground, trying not to think of his panting breath or sore muscles protesting his ascent. Rain drops stain the pavement in front of him. Little wet circles coloring the cement darker. One splashes on his nose. Another on his arm. Shit. 

Just as they reach the top of the hill, there’s a roaring clap of thunder and the clouds let loose. Rain pours down from the sky. The rain completely drenches any of their clothes that weren’t already soaked through with sweat.

“Fuck!” Harry shouts, looking startled over his shoulder at Louis. His short curls are matted to his face.

“Told ya.” Louis scrunches his nose fondly. 

They sprint the last stretch back to their house. Finally, they spill through the front door, dripping wet and breathless, and happy to be out of the rain.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Harry says as he peels off his shirt. Louis can’t take his eyes off Harry’s wet skin as he lifts his shirt up revealing the laurels, the butterfly, and the swallows. Harry drops the drenched fabric on the rug with a dull splat. 

“You sure about that?” Louis raises an eyebrow. He strips out of his own shirt, the cool rain quickly chilling his overheated skin. Harry shakes his curly hair out, splashing the cool droplets on Louis. 

“Hey!” Louis swats his wet shirt at Harry. Harry dodges, sprinting down the hall. 

Louis laughs, picking up their wet shirts and heads into the bathroom. Harry is already stripped naked and steps into the spray of the shower. Louis doesn’t hesitate to join him. He presses him against the tiled wall, slick skin hot under his palms, and catches his mouth in a searing kiss. His fingers tug through wet curls as he licks into Harry’s mouth, tasting his moan. Louis might not mind morning runs as much if they all ended like this.

# ⛈

“It’s raining,” Louis mutters. He taps his fingers anxiously against the table as he checks his phone. The storm rolled in fast, dense clouds turning the sky nearly black as night.

He knew the storm was coming. He’d listened to the meteorologist on the telly go on about the wind speeds and flash floods headed his way. But knowing it was coming doesn’t stop his worry, especially since Harry was supposed to be home over an hour ago. He hasn’t called to say he got stuck at work, hasn’t responded to Louis’ texts, hasn’t answered his phone. 

With a frustrated huff, Louis carries his empty plate into the kitchen. Louis got tired of waiting and ate without Harry. There’s still no sign of him after dinner. Louis loads the dishwasher, listening to the rain pounding against the windows. Doing the dishes is not enough to prevent his mind from spinning the situation out of control. Each scenario seems worse than the last. His car got stranded, he crashed, he… No, he can’t let himself go there. 

Louis checks his phone again. No new messages. He throws the towel onto the counter in exasperation. “Where the fuck is he?” A flash of lightning bursts through the sky. Out of habit, Louis counts the seconds, whispering the numbers as he did with the twins when they were little and couldn’t sleep during storms. “One one-thousand, two one thou—”

His counting is cut off by another burst of thunder. The storm is getting closer and the rain heavier. The wind has picked up. It tosses sheets of rain against the side of the house. Louis braces his hands on the counter and takes a deep breath, trying to reign in his suffocating worry. Another flash of lightning illuminates the kitchen. No, not lightning, but headlights turning up the drive. Finally. 

He paces the kitchen; his worry boils into anger. He listens for the tell-tale sound of Harry’s keys turning the lock. Another roll of thunder clashes, shaking the panes in their frames. Any familiar sound of Harry’s arrival is drowned out by the storm. 

Harry comes in, looking tired, but safe and dry. Louis’ pent up emotions erupt in a flood of words and dramatic arm waving before he’s even kicked off his shoes. “Where the fuck have you been? It’s storming. The weatherman kept going on about how dangerous it was out there. There’s fucking flood warnings, high winds, and downed powerlines and you’re late.”

“I’m sorry. Work was—”

“You didn’t come home and you didn’t text. I was left here with a cold dinner and an empty house and you could have been crashed in a ditch somewhere!”

“I said I was sorry!”

Louis throws up his hands and shouts, “Sorry isn’t good enough. You always do this. You get so wrapped up in work that you don’t spare a thought for anything else.” 

“I’m sorry I forgot to call. We were working on this new song and I had to get it out while the idea was still fresh.” The last words of response is nearly drowned out by another crash of thunder. 

Louis shakes his head, “Of course you did. Bloody hell.” He storms off down the hall and slams the bedroom door. He flops onto the bed and covers his eyes with his arm. All the tumultuous emotions stewed for so long, he doesn’t know whether to scream into a pillow or cry. So, he does both.

# 🌥

“It’s stopped raining,” Harry says. The quiet statement is the only indication that he knows Louis has joined him on the front porch. He doesn’t turn to face Louis. He doesn’t say anything else. The first moments in the aftermath of one of their arguments are always tenuous. 

Louis’ eyes are sore, cheeks ruddy, and he is exhausted, but calmer, now. They will need to discuss their argument at some point, but for now he is just thankful that Harry made it home safe. He hopes Harry has had a chance to calm down too. With bated breath, Louis steps onto the porch and lets the screen door clatter shut behind him. 

The porch is silent. The rain chased off the singing birds or chirping crickets. Now that the storm has moved on, the warm orange glow of sunset washes over their garden. The cleansing scent of rich petrichor surrounds them. The threat of high winds and hail have passed and there is stillness in the aftermath of the storm. 

Even Harry is still. He’s stood stiffly at the edge of the porch with his shoulders slumped inward. He still doesn’t say anything to Louis. The absence of his usual endless chatter and hummed melodies makes Louis anxious. The silence now that Harry is home is worse than the silence earlier when he wasn’t.

Louis lays his hand on Harry’s back. When Harry doesn’t move away, Louis slides his hand around his waist, pulling him into an embrace. Harry softens into his arms and leans back into his chest. They stand pressed together on their porch, but for the moment neither breaks the silence.

Louis loses track of time. They watch the storm clouds roll through the sky, their billowed shapes turn brilliant hues in the waning light, deep blues and rich purples, like bruises across the golden sky. 

Eventually Harry shifts, dropping his head back on Louis’ shoulder. Softly, he says, “Sorry, I should have texted.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Louis responds. “I was worried and I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Suddenly, Harry gasps and points up to the sky, “Look—a rainbow!” Louis follows his finger to see a rainbow stretched across the sky, its spectrum of colors on display. 

“It’s beautiful.” Louis squeezes around his waist a little tighter, holding him close. Harry’s hands join Louis’ on his sides. Their wedding bands clink softly together as he slots their fingers together. He presses his lips tenderly against the soft skin beneath Harry’s ear. Harry starts humming softly. The unfamiliar melody flows from him as Louis holds him close.

They stay wrapped in each other, watching the sunset reflect on the last of the storm clouds and the brilliant arch of color as dusk settles the sky into an inky blue. Standing here in front of their home, Louis is reminded that this fight was but a blip in their relationship. The argument wasn’t the first. And it definitely won’t be the last. But for worse or for better, they can weather any storm together.

# 🌈

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Share this fic on [tumblr](https://haztobegood.tumblr.com/post/643114896932978688/changing-weather-for-worse-or-for-better-by)!


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